Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Zambia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Grandmaster Flash. All the underground hits.
All Funkadelic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
The Standells,
Gil Scott Heron,
Icehouse,
Alton Ellis,
The Cowsills,
Robert Hood,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nico,
Swell Maps,
Magma,
Traffic Nightmare,
Angry Samoans,
The Slackers,
MDC,
Funky Four + One,
Cheater Slicks,
Simply Red,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Symarip,
Minutemen,
Public Enemy,
48th St. Collective,
Amazonics,
Minny Pops,
Throbbing Gristle,
Blancmange,
Fad Gadget,
Aaron Thompson,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang of Four,
T.S.O.L.,
KRS-One,
Dave Gahan,
the Association,
Erykah Badu,
X-101,
Lakeside,
The Music Machine,
World's Most,
Mantronix,
the Soft Cell,
Moebius,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nick Fraelich,
The United States of America,
Unwound,
Masters at Work,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fugazi,
Model 500,
Can,
Lalann,
Suicide,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Aswad,
Stockholm Monsters,
Vainqueur,
Von Mondo,
Royal Trux,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Stereo Dub,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.